Fight or Surrender
by Francienyc
Summary: A oneshot in which Lucy and Corin's son, Lucien, faces a painful illness which presents him-and his parents-with a difficult choice.


_A/N: This is a oneshot I wrote awhile ago. I'm working on a longer story involving Lucien, and thought this might be good to publish as a prequel because of the character introduction and some of the themes._

_This is based on the Golden Age of my own creation, along with Rooty-Boots. Some background information you need to know: Peter, Susan, and Lucy all got married and had children-Dash, the eldest, is Susan's with her husband Erech, Anna is Peter's daughter with his wife Amelia, and Lucien is Lucy's son with Corin (of Archenland-you know him!). Juliette, the fourth child referred to, is Peridan's daughter, who is very close to the Kings and Queens. The rest should be self evident from the story. If you're curious about this, you can see more info in my profile and my other stories. Lucien appears in, among others "Life Among the Stars" and "All the Dreams that Might Have Been - Redux."_

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Lucien stared into the dark room. There was the orange glow of the lobelia burner across the room, but it shed little light. Most of the light came from the silvery sliver of a moon, hung high and far away in the sky. From his bed, Lucien could not see the window.

Mama was sleeping beside him. She told him she wouldn't leave him, and she had been true to her word. If she had to step out for the briefest of minutes, she made sure that Uncle was there to talk to him. She told him she loved him fifty times a day, but Lucien thought that he never got tired of hearing it, even if he couldn't say it back. Uncle never said anything, but Lucien understood perfectly. He was the same as Uncle. He didn't say the things he felt.

At the beginning, Mama tried to pretend as though everything was normal, that this was just another attack—if somewhat more serious than the others Lucien had. She talked to the tutor about the work he was missing and smoothed the covers over him and talked about when he was feeling better all the things they would do.

Lucien was accustomed to the pattern of his illness. He would get an attack, suddenly and without warning, a fit of coughing which suffocated him and hurt his weak chest unbearably. Then, just as he thought he would pass out from lack of air and the insistent coughs rattled through his brittle body when he had no energy to push them out, he would draw a breath. Then two, and three, and slowly the attack would subside and he would fall asleep, exhausted. When he woke, Mama or Uncle would be at his bedside smiling at him. If it was Mama who was there when he awoke, she would stroke his hair off his head and smile at him and give him some tea. She would say "How are you feeling, my darling?" and "What should we do tomorrow?" Uncle would give him tea, too, but he would have a cup as well so they would drink together, and then they would look over a book and talk about it so that Lucien forgot all about being sick for awhile. Daddy was there sometimes too, and he would play games with Lucien, making him laugh and they would stay inside all afternoon and they would take naps together.

This attack was different, though. The coughs never subsided and he seemed to be coughing as much as he was taking breaths. His throat hurt horribly, and he couldn't eat properly, and after days and days of coughing he was weak and exhausted. Mama had stopped talking about when he was better. She sat with him and sang to him. Lucien wondered if there were boys who ever got sick of their Mamas and wanted them to go away. He always wanted Mama near when he was sick like this. Everyone came to see him: Uncle was often nearby, and sometimes Peridan came with him and sat on the end of the bed and drew funny pictures. Dash brought him presents from outside and Juliette made him dozens of handkerchiefs, which was the only thing she knew how to make by herself. He had been looking forward to Anna's visit most of all because she never treated him like he was sick, but when she saw him, and he could scarcely get a sentence out she turned and ran from the room. Uncle Peter and Aunt Amelia brought her back, but she didn't say anything and she certainly didn't tease him and fight with him like usual. When she left she patted his hand, and that troubled Lucien.

After Anna looked so scared, that was when Lucien began to worry. He hadn't really been thinking about the pain. He was used to being in pain and not being able to breathe properly; that was simply a part of life. He thought everyone else felt that way too, but he was coming to see that they didn't think this was ordinary. If Anna was scared, he wondered if he should be too.

When he was ill, Mama often told him a story about when he first fell sick. "You were so ill, Lucien, and just a little baby. All over the country people were dying from the sickness, and I was so worried about you, my darling. So I took you into the chapel and I rocked you in my arms and I said to you, 'Lucien you _will_ live. You must be strong, as I know you are. You mustn't give up.' And you looked at me and you held onto my hand and I knew that you would fight."

That night, before she put him to sleep, Mama didn't tell that story. Instead she stroked his hair back and said "Lucien, my darling, do you hurt a lot?" When he nodded, she said, "I don't want you to hurt. If—if you want to sleep and sleep, don't hang on for me. Alright? Because I love you, and I'll always love you. I don't want to see you hurting." She had laid down with him then and cuddled him close as though he was a baby. She told him stories and talked to him until she fell asleep in the middle of one.

Now it was late in the night. Lucien had not been sleeping. He thought he saw the ghosts of the children who had died of the sickness lurking in the shadows of his room, but he stared hard enough in the corner just like Uncle had taught him to when it came to facing his fears, and they vanished. But then he looked at Mama sleeping and he remembered what she said. He realized that all this time he had been fighting because she told him he was strong and he had to. He hadn't thought there was a choice until tonight. He wondered what would happen if he stopped fighting to breathe. He fingered the horns of his stuffed lamb as he thought. Mama would be sad, and Uncle. And Anna too. But he was so tired. He didn't know if he could go on trying forever. He was so weak and so tired.

All at once, there was a gold light in the room, and a smell so strong and sweet it overpowered the acrid scent of the lobelia. Lucien didn't realize right away that he had gasped, because no cough followed it, but he had gasped indeed. Before him stood a huge lion with a shining gold mane. He was much taller than the bed, and he stood looking down at Lucien with somber amber eyes before he lay down with his paws in front of him.

"You're Aslan," Lucien said softly. He had never seen the Great Lion before, but Mama had told him.

The Lion said nothing. It stared back at him. Without thinking about what he was doing, Lucien reached out and fingered the golden mane. "Why did you come?" Lucien asked.

"Because you are grieving, my Son." The Lion's voice was low like Uncle Erech's but more musical.

Lucien thought about this and decided that he was grieving. "I'm scared too," he offered.

"Why? Are you afraid of what will happen to you when you die?"

He thought some more. Mama always told him that Aslan's country was at the end of the sea, and that when they died, they would all go there. And she said this with such a look of certainty and a bright light in her face that he had to believe her. What's more, Uncle said the same thing, and Lucien was convinced he knew everything. Even Daddy had said it to him.

"No," Lucien said at last. "I'm not scared for that. I'm scared to leave here."

"Tell me of it, my son."

Lucien twisted the horn on his Lamb. "Uncle—Uncle and I understand each other. We are alike. If I went away—to your country—who would be left to understand him? Peridan tries, but he doesn't quite. And—and I think Anna would miss me too, because we fight a lot but we are also very good friends. And Aslan—what would happen to Mama and Daddy? I think that they would be very sad. They would be all alone."

"You are not afraid for yourself, dear one?"

"I'm afraid that I would miss them too much," Lucien confessed in a whisper.

The great Lion blinked. "And so you would. That is why I have come to tell you courage. Your mother was right all those years ago. Each of us has strengths which balance our weaknesses. Your body is weak, but your spirit and your mind are strong."

"So I will not die, Aslan?" Lucien asked, his grey eyes fixed on the Lion's. Even as he spoke he felt the answer. The tightness in his chest loosened a little and he could breathe a bit.

"Not unless you let yourself." The Lion was calm. His tail twitched a little around his haunches, and Lucien noticed that he still looked very grave.

"But I will still be sick."

"My son, that is your path. Yours is a darker path than most; the way is not as clear. This is different from your cousin, whose life is laid out before him. I know that you envy him, but this is without cause. Dashiel has cares of his own which you cannot know. You must follow your own path. Know that all will come out as it should be."

Lucien sighed, and as he did he realized the worst of the attack was over. "Sometimes, Aslan, I think that it is hard to believe everything will work out right. Because I am sick, and I am not allowed the cordial. Aslan, can you tell me why?"

The Lion shook his head gravely. "I cannot tell you that, dear one. But I will let you think on this: If you give up, then you will die, but if you remain strong, you will survive."

Lucien puzzled over the logic for a moment, and then he smiled. "Alright, Aslan."

"Your mother is losing her way in her cares. Remind her of what you know."

The Lion stood now and touched his tongue to Lucien's forehead. Lucien could feel the warm breath and smell his mane, and for a moment he could breathe deeply and without pain and it was a moment of bliss. Then the Lion bent over Mama and did the same, and before Lucien could say anymore he disappeared without any warning, or any trace that he had been there.

Lucien lay in bed for awhile. He was not as blissfully free of pain, but he was not coughing anymore either. The attack was over, though another would come.

Beside him, Mama's eyes fluttered open. She smiled slowly. "Aslan was here," she said, looking at Lucien.

He nodded and she opened her arms to him and cuddled him close. "He didn't take you. You're too strong."

Lucien nodded against his mother's warmth, and she kissed his hair. "I'm glad," she said. "I love you too much to let you go yet."

He scrunched up his face. This was so like Mama. She didn't sound pale or scared anymore. He hugged her as tight as he could, hiding his face against her. "Me too."


End file.
